


Snare

by taeminuet



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 07:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminuet/pseuds/taeminuet
Summary: Maybe they could go back to just being friends, before all of this fate business, before the red string had looped them together and refused to let them go no matter how hard they struggled, no matter how much they hurt each other in the process of fighting it.It would be easier.In which they’re tied together and broken apart, all at the same time.





	Snare

They’re fighting again. There’s no reason for it, not really. Jonghyun can’t even remember what started this, why either of them is so angry. He’d come home from a trip to the store, and Kibum had been sullen, silent. He doesn’t know why.

He knows that he’d taken one look at the look on Kibum’s face and let out a sigh before walking right past him into the kitchen to drop the groceries on the counter. He knows that their string had pinged anxiously, pulled taught between them for a moment like it was trying to drag him in, drag him to Kibum’s side instead of letting him past him into the kitchen. He knows that Kibum had moved at that moment, the flash of red switching sides, moving off to Jonghyun’s right instead of his left as Kibum got up and followed him.

And now they’re fighting again. It’s over something stupid. Something he’d forgotten, maybe? He doesn’t remember what. Obviously, he’s not that fucking good at remembering shit since he’d forgotten whatever it was in the goddamn first place, and maybe if Kibum wants everything to be done exactly the way he wants it, he should do it himself instead of bitching at Jonghyun for everything not being exactly the way Kibum  _has_ to have it, all the fucking time.

And maybe,  _maybe_  Jonghyun says this out loud.

“Maybe you could just try fucking listening for once in your life instead of fucking off and doing whatever you want,” Kibum snarls back, and his eyes are full of tears, hot and angry.

Jonghyun should back down. He wants to back down. He hates it when Kibum cries, and he just wants him to stop. But he also knows that  _Kibum_ knows he hates it when Kibum cries, and a mutinous little part of him thinks that it’s not fucking fair that Kibum gets his way by getting all teary-eyed.

“Yeah, because I’m just fucking around and your life is so much more important than mine is?” Jonghyun’s eyes well up, as if in sympathy, and the red string stretched between them pings violently, anxiously, wobbling and wavering, like it wants them to stop too. Maybe it does. Maybe it’s literally trying to remind them that they’re supposed to be soulmates, after all.

It jerks and sways with Kibum’s violent gestures, the way he moves his hands in front of him when he speaks. “At least I do something with my life! At least I’m not just pretending I’m a musician and running a shitty radio show!”

They’re both angry. They’re both angry and they don’t mean it, but Jonghyun feels like Kibum has slapped him anyways.

“You used to fucking  _like_  that radio show,” Jonghyun snarls. “You know, back when we first met and you gave a damn about someone besides yourself.”

He’s crying now, in earnest. Kibum’s eyes are still wet, but Jonghyun is the one crying, tears slipping down his face, plinking to the kitchen floor.

“You used to be someone worth giving a damn about,” Kibum spits at him, and whirls to leave. Jonghyun hears the slam of the front door, but more than that he feels the uncomfortable stretch of the string, trying to follow Kibum, maybe trying to pull him back.

Jonghyun drops to the floor, curling his hands into trembling fists. He gasps for air, trying to breathe around loud, broken sobs. It comes in choppy gulps, his nose getting stuffy and his face going hot with anger and shame. His throat feels tight and coarse by the time he manages to stop, and he’s going to sound like shit tonight. He doesn’t know why it matters. Apparently, even his fucking soulmate hates his radio show, so why should he care if he sounds bad?

Jonghyun drags the back of his hand across his face, feeling miserable. He stands up, digging through the groceries. There’s some cold stuff he needs to put away, but he just pushes it aside for a minute, trying to find the tissues. There aren’t any. There aren’t any, and he could have sworn, because Kibum’s been up his ass about them for  _weeks_ –

God. God, fuck. He’s such a useless mess, and Kibum is such an asshole, and Jonghyun just fucking hates himself and Kibum and everything. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He’s so fucking tired.

He goes and wipes his face on a paper towel, the texture scratchy over his face, and then blows his nose on the cleanest corner of it before throwing it away. He walks to the sink, grabs a glass off the drying rack. Kibum was supposed to put those away. Jonghyun had washed them last night.

See, a vindictive part of him thinks, Kibum’s not so fucking perfect either.

He swallows hard around the nonsensical burst of tears that wells up at that thought and shoves at the tap until it turns on, hands shaking as he tries to fill his cup. Water splashes over the edge, wetting part of his string for a moment, staining the bright red more of a muddy crimson color. It bounces back quickly, drying the moment the water is away from it, but Jonghyun stares at it for a second. If it can get wet, he thinks, a little frantically, then maybe…

It would be easier, he tells himself. It would be easier, and Kibum could be happier away from him, and maybe they could stop fucking fighting all the time. Maybe they could go back to just being friends, before all of this fate business, before the red string had looped them together and refused to let them go no matter how hard they struggled, no matter how much they hurt each other in the process of fighting it.

It would be easier.

He has the kitchen shears in his hand before he can think about it too hard, and he twists his hand, trying to make the string go taught again. It kind of works, just a little, and Jonghyun is almost shaking as he brings the scissors up, conviction sharp in his mind, as sharp as the scissors in his hand.

He hears the door open again just as he brings the scissors closed around the string, and his head snaps around. Kibum saunters into the kitchen, frowning at him, a box of tissues tight in his hand. He opens his mouth to say something — Jonghyun isn’t sure what — and then he looks at Jonghyun’s hands, and abruptly, horribly, starts laughing, hard enough that he has to brace himself on the counter.

It isn’t a nice laugh. It isn’t the laugh Jonghyun had loved, once upon a time. (He hasn’t heard Kibum laugh like that, not for him, in a very long time.)

“Oh, Jonghyun,” Kibum says, between his cackles, face twisting up with something that shouldn’t fit the sound but does. Jonghyun wishes he couldn’t place Kibum’s emotions so well, couldn't see the anguish, the resentment, the  _hatred_  that is so clear in Kibum’s face. Neither of them have ever been able to hide their emotions well.

Jonghyun drops the scissors with a clatter, the reality of the situation sweeping in. He reaches for Kibum. “I— I didn’t mean…”

He doesn’t even get halfway there before Kibum jerks away from him, hard, and Jonghyun feels the tug. Their string is whole, unbroken, uncut.

Kibum sneers. “I’ve tried,” he says, his voice making Jonghyun go cold. “You can’t cut the string. I’ve tried. Trust me, Jonghyun. I’ve tried.”

Jonghyun doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t say anything. Kibum throws the tissues down on the counter, looks over Jonghyun once more, and leaves.

Jonghyun doesn’t go after him. If he does, they’ll only fight again.

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from [tumblr](http://taeminuet.tumblr.com).


End file.
